


Come On Closer

by melonbutterfly



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dog Tags, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks ago there had been a break in at the Smithonian. Nothing had been taken except a notebook full of sketches and notes from Steve, and his dogtags.</p><p>Steve has just found the dogtags. In a manner of speaking.</p><p>On Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannahrhen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/gifts).



> This is entirely due to hannahrhen's [tag art](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/post/92669830538). You should definitely click on the link and look at the pictures because hot damn.
> 
> Title inspired by Jem's same-titled song.

Steve breath skitters when he catches sight of Bucky. It feels like the beginning of an asthma attack for a second, that sinking, shrinking feeling in his chest, but then he inhales and it expands, spreads out and turns warm and then hot, takes his breath in an entirely different way than mere shock.

What the fuck was Bucky thinking, though, wearing that? He looks like he's out cruising and while Steve is pretty sure he has no right to mind that, the thought still turns in him like needles, bristling. But even that doesn't distract him from sheer... awe. Because hot damn. Just... hot damn. That shirt he's wearing is just one shade away from being see-through, and how tight are those pants? He looks... Steve can't take his eyes off him for one second, that's how he looks.

And that's before Steve registers the glint of metal under the shirt. Oh, there is the arm, of course, shining under the streetlamp as Bucky strides past, all confident swagger. But this is a necklace? is Steve's first thought, but no, even as he thinks that he already knows what it is. The metal chain dangling from Bucky's neck, the metal resting at exactly the right spot on Bucky's chest, probably warmed from his body, is as familiar to Steve as nothing else is.

Two weeks ago there had been a break in at the Smithonian. Nothing had been taken except a notebook full of sketches and notes from Steve, and his dogtags.

Steve has just found the dogtags.

Heat explodes up in him at the realization – that Bucky took them like he has the right (he does), but more than that, that he's now _wearing_ them. He's claiming Steve and at the same time marking himself as his, and fuck, all Steve wants to do is bite him for it. Suck a mark into his neck right where the metal chain rests so he'll always feel it until the mark fades. Use the chain to pull Bucky close, keep him right where Steve wants him.

What else is this, but a bold statement? Combined with that shirt, see-through, a goddamn tease too because not enough so to clearly see his nipples, just the outline, and fuck if that doesn't make Steve's heart beat double-time in his chest. God, but he wants to throw Bucky to the floor and just have him, ravish him, again and again. Put truth to the statement of Bucky wearing Steve's tags, stolen and unasked, without permission.

They've never done this. In hindsight Steve is, has been, acutely aware of just how close they were to it; all it would've taken would have been a tiny nudge. He's spent nights lying awake trying to remember every time he had the opportunity but take use it – when his hand was on Bucky's back, lingering, and all he needed was slide it a little lower, keep it there a little longer. When Bucky turned to him and all Steve would've needed to do was glance at his lips. They'd always been on the precipice, half-aware of it and half terrified, because once they stepped past that invisible line there would be no way back. They wouldn't be able to return, to pretend they still were the people they'd been before they took that step, to pretend they still could live like they were normal. If they had done something about it, they would've had to _do_ something about it.

In hindsight, it seems easy to say that he should've done it anyway. Should've risked it for the reward was better than any hardship. But he knows now and had known then, in that half-aware way he'd been, never consciously thinking about it (for if he had done that he would've had to do something about it), that it had the potential to tear them apart. A coward, Steve is not, except when he is.

But now here Bucky is, pretty as you please, an invitation, a statement and a question mark.

He didn't come to Steve's door. He didn't call him or write to him or contact him in any direct way. Instead, he walks the street at night, amidst a group of people that it appears like he even belongs to, wearing that shirt and Steve's tags. In the middle of Brooklyn, two blocks from where Steve lives now. Just how often has he worn this get-up already, waiting to encounter Steve? Walking the streets of New York at night.

The thought has possessiveness well up in Steve to a degree that would have surprised him just half an hour ago, but half an hour ago he hadn't seen Bucky yet, hadn't known that it was really Bucky, hadn't seen this bold statement. Half an hour ago he had been wandering the streets because he couldn't sleep even though he'd felt exhausted.

He's not exhausted now. Quite the opposite; he feels wide awake, blood pumping in his veins and perfectly alert. Another Chitauri army could attack now and he'd fight it off – another Chitauri army could attack now, and he'd not allow it to distract him from Bucky.

Bucky, who is on the other side of the street, and he and his group of people are coming towards Steve, so Steve crosses the street and puts himself in their path, leans against the wall close by but not exactly under a street lamp. The people come closer, in their mid-twenties and seeming so incredibly young, even though technically that is Steve's age range, and Bucky's too, in a way. They're laughing and talking, some of them glancing at Steve as they come closer, half careful, half interested, though evading his face because you don't look strangers in the eyes these days, especially not at night.

Steve has only eyes for Bucky. At first he doesn't even look at Steve, listening to whatever the person next to him is babbling about while his eyes roam across the street, somewhere between bored and restless. But it appears that at one point he can't physically stop himself from looking at Steve anymore, because his eyes are drawn to him and then don't leave again, fixated. First honing in on Steve's feet, clad in sneakers, Bucky's gaze slowly drags up his legs, over his hips and higher. At Steve's neck he hesitates for a moment, then moves up higher like he can't stop himself, and he spends the most time looking at Steve's face.

Then their eyes lock and, cliché or not, for a moment it feels like time itself stops. Steve can't breathe and Bucky's eyes are blue, light cobalt blue, shiny in the light from the street lamp he's passing by right now. The metal of his arm glints, the dogtags glittering under his shirt – that goddamn shirt. In the bright light his nipples are clearly visible, dark shapes barely hidden by thin cloth, and then Bucky has passed the light and his front is cast in shadow again. But that one, breathless moment was enough. There is a shiver tingling up Steve's spine and his mouth feels dry; he licks his lips.

The first of Bucky's friends(?) pass him by, not sparing him a look. One step, another, and Bucky is almost within touching range, and suddenly Bucky's eyes narrow, his chin tilts up, and Steve barely has time enough to recognize the challenge and push away from the wall before Bucky- Bucky literally _jumps him_ in a move so quick and unexpected Steve is caught completely off-guard. Thankfully Bucky doesn't rely on Steve's hands to catch him, has his arms on Steve's shoulders and his legs wrapped around his hips, and fuck, goddamn, he's so close all of a sudden.

Belatedly Steve settles his hands under Bucky's thighs, taking some of his weight. Around them Bucky's friends gasp and exclaim but neither of them cares, pays attention, because now Bucky can lean back a little. He settles one arm – his flesh one – completely around Steve's shoulder while his metal arm slides off, and as Bucky pulls his head back his metal fingers are suddenly on Steve's cheek, cool but not cold, tilting his face up. Their eyes meet, so close Steve almost goes cross-eyed, and maybe there are people who could resist the temptation, but Steve isn't one of them. He leans in and presses his lips to Bucky's.

There is no pause. Bucky doesn't hesitate for even the fracture of a second before returning the kiss, like he's only been waiting for it. His lips are warm, soft, and this is their first kiss, the first time they've seen each other in the eight months since the Potomac, but Steve can't think of anything but how Bucky feels against him, his weight in Steve's hands, body so close and lips so gentle, so thorough.

Then Bucky pulls away, just a little, and suddenly Steve registers the wolf-whistling of his friends, their laughing and comments. "You go on without me," he says, and it takes Steve a second to realize he's talking to them, not him. There's more noise after that but Steve doesn't listen, just looks at Bucky, so close. He smells of aftershave, spicy and warm, even though he hasn't even shaved, not since this morning at the very least. His stubble tickles Steve's cheeks.

Bucky's friends leave and Bucky is leaning in again, a kiss as sweet and warm as the last and Steve can't breathe but he doesn't care, doesn't mind in the least. In his arms he has Bucky, holding on to him with everything he can and Steve never wants to let go.

Then Bucky's hips shift a little, tilt and suddenly he's less holding himself up with his thighs than pushing himself against Steve. His body rests heavier in Steve's hands but that only allows Steve to pull him closer, push against the hardness in Bucky's jeans. They're so tight Steve is vaguely surprised that's even possible.

"Steve," Bucky murmurs against Steve's lips without pulling away. His name tastes soft from Bucky's mouth, and that combined with the intoxicating closeness of Bucky is why Steve's reply is a little belated.

"Hmm?"

"You gonna take me home?" Bucky's voice is low, the question near rhetorical – has to be. What, does he actually think Steve would say no?

"Oh, I'm gonna take you alright," Steve murmurs back, shifts his grip on Bucky a little so his fingertips are on the insides of Bucky's thighs, squeezing as he rolls his hips to make the meaning of his words entirely clear. Bucky moans and deepens the kiss again, one hand tangling in Steve's hair, and for a moment Steve is distracted. Once he's managed to catch his breath again and regained some part of his brain's function he purrs, "Don't tell me that isn't exactly what you were expecting, wearing this."

Bucky has the gall to smirk into the kiss, eyes bright and lips shiny, swollen as he leans back to look at Steve. "Which part of this are you referrin' to?"

Eyes narrowing, Steve shifts his grip on Bucky, then turns around so he can push him against the wall. The new way this pushes them together, against each other makes both of them gasp but Steve doesn't let himself get distracted by that, nor by Bucky's expression, eyelids lowered and mouth open, though fuck, it's hard to concentrate.

"Everything," Steve growls, and now that he can support Bucky's weight against the wall he can take one hand off him, make entirely clear what he's talking about when he moves his hand between their bodies, slides it up Bucky's chest to tap against the dogtags, skin-warm where they rest against Bucky's sternum. Bucky's claim; marking Steve as his, himself as Steve's. Fuck. He couldn't have made a clearer statement – couldn't have been bolder, so entirely _Bucky_ it makes Steve's chest hurt. He'd known Bucky was getting better, has been receiving letters with no return address for weeks now, but reading it and seeing it in person are two entirely different things. If he weren't so distracted he'd want to talk about it.

"You like 'em?" Bucky asks, breathless as he leans in for another thorough, if short kiss. "Figured if I'd take nothing else, I'd fucking take at least that. I can have that much, yeah?"

"You can have everything," Steve swears, and it's not the heat of the moment; he means it entirely. "Anything I can give you, I will."

At that Bucky whimpers and puts his mouth back to Steve's, their lips sliding against each other wet and almost clumsy, they're so busy tangling tongues. "Always wanted to," Bucky gasps when they have to pull away. "Was never sure if I could though."

"We were fucking idiots back then," Steve pants, pressing his lips to Bucky's jaw because he can't stand to be parted from him even a little. The stubble there is delicious friction against his sensitive lips, little tickling pinpricks that make him press kiss after kiss to Bucky's skin. Bucky whines and tilts his face up under Steve's ministrations, offering himself for more. It's an offer Steve definitely takes.

"Steve," Bucky eventually gasps, _moans_. Fuck, Steve will never get over hearing Bucky say his name like that, will never tire of it, never. "This is legal now but we're still gonna get arrested if someone finds us like this."

Yeah, they're probably in for lewd behavior at the least, the way they are right now. Almost directly beneath a street lamp too, centerstage.

Bucky is right; they should move this somewhere else. But damn if Steve has ever been as reluctant in his life to do something as he is to let Bucky go in any way. So he just hums and presses his lips to Bucky's neck, feel his pulse against his tongue, hard and fast right under his skin.

"Fuck," Bucky groans and rolls his hips into Steve's, and Steve moans, pushes back and latches on to Bucky's skin right under his lips, sucks hard without caring if it'll leave a mark or no. He relishes the whine Bucky gives at that, the way Bucky's fingers dig into his shoulders as he clings to him.

"Damn, Steve," Bucky gasps right in his ear. The fingers of his flesh hand curl in Steve's hair and pull until Steve is forced to lean back, meet Bucky's eyes. They're dark, intent, and Steve licks his lips. The only thing to keep him from moving back in are Bucky's fingers in his hair. "Either you'll get me home right now or I'm fucking you right here." Bucky's low growl sends a shiver down Steve's back; his eyes flutter for a second at the image he invokes.

But fuck, they can't do it here, they'll get caught and arrested and that will completely ruin the night; nope, it's not happening. Patience, Steve can have that.

He's just so reluctant to let Bucky go. Except the thought suddenly occurs that he doesn't even have to. Upon that realization Steve immediately shifts his grip on Bucky until he's holding him with both hands again and moves away from the wall, starts to walk down the street in a swift stride. Bucky blinks incredulously and then laughs. It's the most beautiful sound Steve has ever heard.

Bucky tightens his grip around Steve's shoulder as he leans in for a kiss, still smiling. "You're crazy," he murmurs against Steve's lips.

Thankfully Steve manages to not make the absolutely cliché reply to that; instead he shrugs and shifts Bucky a little higher. "Don't care, you're here." He's not going to ask why, or how, or why like this, why Bucky didn't come to him. They're questions he'd like to know the answers to, but it's not urgent and right now? He just doesn't care. He truly doesn't.

Bucky's gaze softens, fingers gentle as they card through Steve's hair, cup his face. "Sorry it took me so long."

Steve shakes his head. "You never have to apologize to me. I missed you like hell but it's okay if you weren't ready."

Bucky just shakes his head and moves in for another kiss, soft and not particularly demanding but that still makes it hard for Steve to concentrate as he walks them down the street. It's a good thing it's relatively late, just past midnight; Steve had tried sleep already and woken up from nightmares. Deciding to take a short walk outside was the best decision he has ever made, period.

"I think I've been ready for a while," Bucky whispers against his lips, not pulling away far enough to break contact. "Just didn't know how to approach you. Couldn't just walk up to your door and ring the doorbell, could I?"

"You could've," Steve replies, sneaking in another quick kiss. "This probably wouldn't have happened as quickly then, though." Even if Bucky had been wearing this outfit, probably. Steve would have been too shocked, too stunned to react at first, and by the time he would've figured out what he wanted the window of opportunity would have passed. With it happening like it did, he had a moment to process, and he very much needed it.

"Then I'm glad." Bucky moves in for another kiss, deep and slow. His eyes are closed, arms wrapped around Steve's shoulders and he's heavy in Steve's arms, substantial. By far not too heavy to carry, but he doesn't feel as featherlight as Natasha would have. He feels solid, _real_ , and that's very much what Steve needs.

"I'm so glad you're here," it escapes him when they pull apart again, and Bucky smiles against his lips.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," he murmurs, slightly non-sequitur. "Admittedly, this isn't how I expected this to go."

Steve draws his lower lip between his teeth. "No?" He turns them, not quite suddenly but still a little unexpected, and pushes Bucky into the wall next to a building entrance. "How did you expect this to go, dressed like this, wearing my tags?" Not giving Bucky the time to reply he kisses him, pushes his whole body against him in a way that was impossible to do while he was carrying him. They're both interested, that much is obvious, and Bucky moans when Steve thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Suddenly his fingers are tight in Steve's hair, holding him in place as Bucky thoroughly offers himself up for Steve to explore, tongue almost submissive against Steve's. It makes the blood pound in Steve's ears, for Bucky to be so pliant to Steve's touch after that display, to allow Steve to carry him, put him where he wants him.

They're both breathing heavily when they pull apart, and with part of Bucky's weight balanced against the wall Steve has one hand free. He meant to use it to get his keys but he's less than interested in that right now, Bucky too irresistible to refrain from touching. The cloth of that infernal shirt feels thicker than it looks, teases Steve as he strokes his fingers up Bucky's belly to his chest, tapping gently against the tags resting against his sternum.

"Wasn't sure you'd even recognize them," Bucky murmurs, voice a little rough.

Like Steve didn't carry them always on his person for over two years. "Like you would've allowed anyone else to take them and keep them." Moving his hand up, he cups Bucky's jaw, touches his swollen lower lip with his thumb.

"Damn right," Bucky murmurs against his thumb, low but fierce, and heat curls in Steve's belly at the possessiveness in his voice. Leaning in for another toe-curling kiss, he fumbles in his pocket for his keys and somehow, without looking, manages to unlock the door to his building. Bucky laughs against his lips when he pushes the door open, little gusts of breath that brush softly over his skin. "Smooth."

"Gonna show you smooth," Steve pants, settling both hands on Bucky again and carrying him inside. His building's got an elevator but it's not there right now and Steve only lives on the second floor, so he takes the stairs instead, too impatient to wait. Bucky, arms wrapped around Steve's shoulders, chuckles into his ear, breath warm and stubble tickling against Steve's skin. That alone is enough to distract him enough so he almost misses when Bucky breathes, liquor-smooth, "What else you gonna show me, Steve?"

Steve shivers, momentarily derailed, then forces himself to concentrate. A couple of steps down the hall, key in the lock, open the door and once they're inside he can do all he wants to Bucky. If only Bucky weren't so goddamn distracting, humming into Steve's ear, fingernails scratching his scalp as he cards his fingers through Steve's hair, sending strange little shivers down his back. Those goddamn muscular thighs wrapped around Steve's hips.

"Gonna show you," Steve pants when his key is finally in the lock, "something the girls taught me." He shoves the door open to Bucky's intrigued hum. Metal hand firm on Steve's shoulder for balance, he leans back, mouth opening and eyes sparking with curiosity and amusement, but whatever he means to say, Steve doesn't find out because finally, finally they're inside his apartment, a familiar space that belongs to him, and he hesitates not a second. A gasp escapes Bucky's already open mouth when Steve shoves him into the wall, plasters himself to his front and presses their mouths together, shoves his tongue past Bucky's conveniently parted lips. Bucky immediately gets with the program, almost writhing between the wall and Steve's body as he sucks on Steve's tongue. Fuck, goddamn.

Steve's heart is pounding so hard in his chest, harder than it does when he runs a marathon, jumps off a plane, has to face an interview in front of a live audience and live TV. For a moment he almost feels dizzy, untethered, and then Bucky's fingers tighten in his skin, pressure blunted by Steve's shirt and he's never felt more grounded.

Then, inexplicably, Bucky rips his mouth away from Steve's, eyes dark and lips red, the lone lamp Steve left on in the hall bright enough to see him by easily. "Security," Bucky pants, and it takes Steve three long seconds to get it. Only then does he register the steady, hurried beeping sound his security system starts to make if he doesn't input the code within the timeframe.

"Fuck," he curses roughly, annoyed by the interruption, then even more so when Bucky grins at him, dark and delighted, and actually unwraps his legs from Steve's hips, setting his feet on the ground for the first time since he jumped him out in the street.

This, this is completely not what Steve planned or wanted, but the beeping of his security gets even more urgent and he knows that if he doesn't input the code soon it'll actually alert someone. That's the last thing Steve wants right now, so he turns and focuses on the keypad, inputs the code and lets it scan his thumb. It doesn't take more than a handful of seconds, if that, and yet somehow Bucky manages to achieve a miracle in that short amount of time.

When Steve turns back to him, Bucky is entirely naked save for the dogtags, leaning casually against the wall the same way Steve had when waiting for him to approach. There are absolutely no words for how he looks, lips curled in a smirk, hair a mess from Steve's hands, lips red from Steve's lips, his kisses. His shoulders, strong and muscular, flow into his chest, the light dusting of hair there that pauses at his belly, then continues in a trickle down his pelvis. He's hard; that's no surprise and yet Steve still can't stop staring at him for a moment. But there is so much he wants to look at so he doesn't get stuck for more than a moment or two before he looks at Bucky's thighs, even more enticing entirely naked, his knees, strong calves, surprisingly delicate feet and ankles. Even back then Steve had a bigger shoe size than Bucky.

Smirk widening at Steve's utter speechlessness, Bucky hitches up one eyebrow. "So? What you gonna do with me?"

Steve meets his challenging gaze and lifts his chin. He never could resist that daring expression of Bucky's, never then, and not now either, it turns out. Keeping eye contact the whole time, he reaches out, hooks his fingers into the chain of his dogtags and uses it to pull Bucky towards him, into his body and waiting mouth. Bucky melts into him, the taste of his smug little smile sweet on Steve's tongue as he swallows it.

Now that Bucky is naked Steve's hands aren't quite as bold, roaming down his back and up his sides, fanning across his ribcage only to settle on his hips. The bones rising up under his skin there prove irresistible and, keeping his hands right there, Steve pulls his mouth from Bucky's, meets his dark eyes just once in a very purposeful look, then presses a kiss under Bucky's jaw. Another to his Adam's apple, his pulse point, his collarbone, and then he just can't stall anymore – he wants everything, everything at once, but he's far too impatient to take his time and let himself explore as he wants to.

Later, he promises himself, and sinks to his knees to the sound of Bucky's sharp intake of breath, surprised maybe or taken off-guard. At eye level with Bucky's cock, he allows himself a thorough look, the way it curves up and to the side just a little, red and dipping just a little when Bucky twitches, a movement of his hips aborted before it can gain traction. Oh, Bucky knows perfectly well why he's here – though then again, it's probably not difficult to figure out.

Back on his USO tour, some of the girls had described to him how to do this. Steve knows exactly what he's supposed to do, what he should watch out for, to pay attention to Bucky because hotspots aside, that's always the most important part. He even got to try it once or twice, but even as stress relief anonymous sex somehow had only left him feeling hollow, so he never got to really practice. Never really cared to, either.

He cares a whole lot now. Never has he wanted a dick in his mouth as much as he wants it now, never; he actually feels his mouth water. Licking his lips, he takes hold of Bucky's cock with one hand and fits his lips around the head, slowly accepts it deeper into his mouth to the sound of Bucky's strangled groan.

"Fuck, Steve," he hears, Bucky's voice shaky and not quite all there, and when Steve, halfway down, looks up, he finds Bucky staring down at him absolutely transfixed. Lips parted, eyes wide, jaw slack. Even just that is infinitely rewarding, and then Steve notices Bucky's hands, clenched into tight fists. With is free hand he reaches out, settles them on his shoulders because he wants for Bucky to have something to hold on to, wants to feel Bucky's fingers dig into his skin again. Then he settles his hand on Bucky's hip again, closes his eyes and sucks gently as he slowly pulls off. Just that, nothing more for now; build it up slowly, he remembers, don't start out with the big guns or there'll be no anticipation, no build-up.

When he's almost reached the tip he sinks down again, slow and even, just letting Bucky's cock slide into his mouth while he keeps up a steady suction. It feels good in his mouth, hard and thick but not uncomfortably so, slightly bitter, and above him Bucky is huffing out little puffs of breath like he's trying to hold it in for just a second. Steve intends to make Bucky loud before the night is over.

After they've both gotten used to this, he slowly ups his game, remembering all the hotspots both from his own experience and what he's been told: the bundle of nerves just below the head, the thick vein running along the underside, the tiny slit at the tip, the sensitive foreskin. He lets his tongue hit them all and pays careful attention to what makes Bucky's breath stutter, his fingers tighten in Steve's shoulders, makes tiny involuntary noises escape his throat. It's a rush; Steve has never felt this powerful.

Especially when suddenly Bucky's fingers dig harder into his shoulders and he gasps, hips flexing, though not hard enough to fight against where Steve is pushing them back with one hand. "Steve!" he gasps, breathless and sounding nearly destroyed. Fuck, Steve wants to suck him forever if it'll keep making Bucky give him sounds like that.

Unfortunately, Bucky doesn't seem to see it that way; suddenly his fingers are in Steve's hair, not tugging gently but actually pulling him away. With a reluctant noise that he can feel Bucky shiver at, he follows the direction, sliding off Bucky's cock with a wet sound.

"Steve, Steve," Bucky pants, voice rough. His knees are trembling and he slides down to the floor along the wall, keeping his hands on Steve's head and shoulder. Once they're at eye level again he pulls Steve into a wet, frankly destroying kiss, thorough and possessive. Both his hands slide to Steve's cheeks, cupping his jaw. They stay there as he pulls away, lips red and pupils blown, hair disheveled. He looks like he's been doing exactly what he was doing and Steve stares at him for a second, thoroughly committing the image to his mind. He doesn't ever want to forget this.

Then Bucky says, "I wanted to tell you something." He takes a breath, then slowly withdraws his metal hand from Steve's face, taps his index finger against Steve's dogtags with a metallic click. "I took these, because your past belongs to me. Whatever else may happen, I'll always have that. Right?"

"Yes," Steve immediately confirms. "Always." It's the perfect truth. There are no words to describe how important Bucky has been to his life, how much of an impact he has had on it from early childhood on. The dogtags are an inadequate representation, really, but the best they have available.

Bucky nods, then leans in for a quick kiss. "I wanted to tell you – my future can belong to you, if you want it. Me."

There's no mistaking what he means by that. Steve finds himself nodding before Bucky has even finished speaking, then nods again as the words sink in. His voice is hoarse and not only because of what he's been doing when he says, "Of course I want you, Bucky."

The smile that lights up Bucky's face at that is incredibly sweet – for about a second or two. Then it turns wicked. "Well good. 'Cause I wanna ride you. And rip these fucking clothes off you, you're hella overdressed."

That... "Yes. All the yes," Steve groans, leaning in to mash his lips to Bucky's because he's got to have his taste back in his mouth right now, right this second. Bucky returns the kiss, but his hands also immediately get busy opening Steve's belt and jeans, which does get a bit distracting. Especially when he slides his hand inside and wraps his fingers around Steve's cock, gives it a good squeeze that has Steve's eyes flutter shut, has him groan into his mouth.

Bucky hums, then unfortunately lets go and focuses on shoving Steve's pants and underwear down his hips. Steve has to kneel up for that, which makes him loom over Bucky for just a second before Bucky suddenly gives him a shove. Completely losing his balance, Steve lands on his back on the floor, the impact not even serious enough to send the air out of his lungs but he loses his breath anyway because suddenly Bucky is on top of him, straddling him, hands sneaking under Steve's shirt. He shoves it up as far as possible, but that only seems like an afterthought because his fingers slide across Steve's skin straight to his nipples. His metal fingertip just rubs across it, cool and hard, but his flesh hand twists Steve's nipple between thumb and index finger, sending sparks of pleasure zinging through his veins. Bucky swallows his gasp as he leans in and takes Steve's mouth in a kiss again. At the same time he rolls his hips down, rubbing along Steve's hard cock.

It, frankly, is a move that would be criminal. Definitely was back when, and if Steve weren't so dizzy and breathless with arousal that thought would make him laugh. As it is, all he manages is a little huff at the end of a moan, and then he tightens his grip on Bucky's hip and neck – how did his hands even get there? - and flips them around solely so he can grind his hips down into Bucky's cock, make them both groan. "Fuck, fuck," Bucky gasps, head tilted back, baring the beautiful line of his throat. Steve wants to draw that, and also mark him there. And he can, he can do that now, it's not a thought he has to hastily tuck away again, pretending he doesn't know where that came from, so he leans in and licks a long stripe up Bucky's neck with the flat of his tongue, just to see what he tastes like there.

Salty, a little bit, warm, and Steve immediately knows where he wants to mark him. With little kisses he trails back down Bucky's neck again until he gets to the spot above the dip leading to his collarbone.

"Steve," Bucky pants, and then he pulls hard at Steve's shirt. "Get – this – thing – off!"

The last thing Steve wants is to pull away from Bucky's neck now, but he's not in a frame of mind to deny Bucky anything, so he leans back just as much as he has to and pulls his shirt over his head with one hand, then throws it away with an annoyed flick of his wrist.

"Finally." He's drawn back into a kiss and that's nice, almost nice enough to distract him, but he wants, he wants to mark Bucky, so he's going to. Even if Bucky makes the sweetest reluctant sound when Steve takes his mouth off his. To make up for it, Steve immediately dives in for that spot he decided on earlier and without further ado, fits his lips over it and starts to suck.

He's rewarded with another sweet sound escaping Bucky, a sort of breathless whine, and then the most amazing thing happens. Steve pushes his teeth into Bucky's skin, and Bucky moans, whole body undulating under Steve's in a slow roll, pressing them together from chest to pelvis for just a moment, rubbing Bucky's cock against Steve's belly. Steve's moan ends at Bucky's throat but Bucky's thighs tighten around his hips anyway, his fingers in Steve's hair flexing. He sucks harder, to the point where he wonders if it's painful now, but Bucky just makes another sound high in his throat so if it is, he doesn't seem to mind.

Shit, Bucky really doesn't seem to mind, and he has to know what Steve's doing. Steve remembers the few times Bucky had come back from a date with patches on his skin marked, how deliberately Steve had ignored that, and the one time he had hid a mark from Bucky. It's all water under the bridge now, had been even back then, but Steve nevertheless is gripped by the fierce need to put his own mark on Bucky. It will probably fade away soon, but if Bucky lets him, he'll just put a new one on him.

The thought of getting to do this again – of Bucky holding him close the way he's doing now for the sole purpose of Steve writing his possessiveness into Bucky's skin, encouraged and even wanted, it's enough to make Steve shiver, thrust uncontrolled down against Bucky for just a moment. He gets a grip on himself the next moment, but he doesn't stop, does it again just to see if he can turn Bucky's gasp into a louder sound.

Suddenly he feels one of Bucky's heels dig into his ass, pushing him on, and now Steve is thinking, really thinking about the way Bucky is under him. Legs spread to cradle Steve's body between them, clinging to him with strong thighs and one hand digging into his back, the other a stark contrast as it gently cradles the back of Steve's neck. Bucky's head is tilted back and to the side, making room for Steve, and oh, he's so sweet under Steve, almost trembling, and mind-meltingly hot.

Fuck, if Steve doesn't stop rutting against him he's going to come. He can get hard again pretty quickly, but he's not sure... well, he's not going to find out wondering about it. With absolute reluctance, he pulls off Bucky's neck. As he licks his tingling lips he surveys the spot of skin he was working at, noting with satisfaction that it's clearly red, indentation of his teeth clearly visible. It'll turn into a nice mark, he's sure of it.

He doesn't have more than a couple of seconds to admire it and be proud and honestly a little smug before Bucky's legs suddenly tighten around him a different way. The next moment Bucky is flipping them around, Steve landing on his back with Bucky on top of him, straddling him again. The cool wooden floor of his hall, Steve notices then, isn't the most comfortable place to be.

The stray thought fizzles out abruptly under the heat of Bucky's gaze. Then Bucky smirks that smirk, the one always made Steve think of sex, and clearly justifiably so. It actually makes Steve's heart skip a beat, only to continue even faster. Bucky is just the personification of sensual, especially when he wants to be.

"God, I missed you," Steve rasps, surprising even himself with the statement. Not that it isn't true.

Bucky blinks, then his face turns soft, warm, a vast difference to his almost predatory expression before. "Me too," he replies a bit gruffly. "I'm sorry." He leans in for a kiss but Steve stops him with a hand on his chest.

"You've got nothing to apologize for," he emphasizes. " _Nothing_."

Swallowing noisily, Bucky just looks at him for a moment, then gives a tiny nod. "Alright."

Steve smiles at him and pulls him in for a quick kiss, then sits up, hands settling on Bucky's hips. With the somewhat abrupt change in mood the need has abated somewhat, transforming from a high-burning fire to a low simmering, no less intense for it. But it allows Steve to think a little more with his brain again, and he decides that the floor really is not the right place for this. Especially not for their first time.

"You're not-" Bucky starts, only to interrupt himself with a startled laugh when Steve abruptly gets to his feet, lifting him up along with it. "Steve! You really don't have to carry me everywhere, I can walk just fine!"

"I know, but then I wouldn't get to do this," Steve replies, nosing against Bucky's cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss to his jaw, then one to the adorable dip in his chin, and one to his lips. That one lingers, turns long and languid as Bucky slides both arms around Steve's neck and really gets them into it. If Steve knew his apartment less well, they probably would have bumped into several doorjambs and at least one furniture corner on the way, but by some miracle, they make it to the bed unscathed. Shifting his hold on Bucky, Steve kneewalks to the middle of the bed, then makes as if to lower them down but Bucky pulls off him with a wet sound, unwraps his legs from around Steve's hips and kneels on the bed himself.

"Nuh-uh. You're gonna get the lube, and then I'll go on top because I _am_ going to ride you for all you're worth tonight, Steve."

Steve shivers and scrambles to obey, letting go of Bucky and stretching towards his nightstand, collecting the tube of lube from the drawer. In that moment he abruptly realizes that they have no condoms and suddenly goes cold all over. "Fuck."

"Oh do not tell me you don't- well there it is, what's up?" Bucky says, going from exasperated to confused.

"I don't have any condoms," Steve admits. He doesn't do this sex thing often, and not at all anymore since he found out about HYDRA.

"Oh." Expression clearing, Bucky raises one eyebrow. "Well, I do. In my backpocket, chop chop."

Bossy little shit, but Steve would be lying if he said he didn't like it. And even if he didn't, he's too relieved in that moment about getting to do this after all that he doesn't even pause, just scrambles off the bed and hurries back into the hall. Bucky's pants are lying abandoned on the floor, along with his t-shirt, socks and shoes, and... no underwear. Shit. It's a thought that almost distracts Steve, but only almost, because as sexy as the thought is, he has something much sexier waiting for him in his bed right now.

In Bucky's pocket he indeed finds condoms – plural, even, there are two. He fishes them out and hurries back, but his steps falter as he has a rather sudden thought. "Why do you- Jesus."

Bucky clearly decided to use Steve's absence efficiently; he's lying on his back, legs spread wide with one knee pulled up, giving Steve a full view of where he has two fingers buried inside his slick hole. "Bucky," Bucky corrects breathlessly, somehow still managing to come off as cheeky. "Why do I what?"

Steve swallows and blinks, then swallows again, rendered completely speechless by the image presenting itself to him for another moment or two. Then he shakes himself out of it and steps up to the bed. "Why do you carry condoms around with you?" He has absolutely no right, he knows this, but the thought of Bucky putting them in his pocket with the plan to use them with a random person as he went out clubbing with the crowd Steve found him with is... not pleasant.

The way Bucky raises one eyebrow indicates he knows where Steve's thoughts are going. "Been waitin' for you to find me, dolt."

Abruptly embarrassed by his own trail of thoughts, Steve flushes. "Oh."

Bucky rolls his eyes, and then they flutter shut for a moment as his breath hitches. His fingers are buried deep inside, muscles wrapped tightly around them. Immediately Steve is completely derailed, train of thought forgotten as he, like hypnotized, climbs onto the bed and watches up close as Bucky thrusts his fingers inside again and again. Never in all his life has he seen anything as hot, as captivating.

Then, lips stretched into a wide grin, Bucky rolls his hips, pushing up into his fingers and however it makes him feel, it must be good because he lets out a little "ah" sound that somehow shoots right to Steve's groin. God, he needs to touch Bucky so badly.

Tentatively at first – Bucky was rather insistent about how he wants them to end up earlier, and it wasn't with him on his back and Steve on top of him – he reaches out to touch the ankle of Bucky's splayed out leg, fingertips sliding over the almost delicate bone there. One corner of Bucky's mouth curls up at that, strangely sweet among the rest of him; his whole body practically spells out sex in capital letters. His skin, sweaty and shiny, glows golden in the light of Steve's nightstand lamp, lips red, hair a mess, not to mention what the rest of him looks like. His nipples are pebbled into hard little peaks and Steve suddenly realizes that he never touched him there, not yet.

Slowly but purposefully, he works his way up Bucky's leg, cupping his fingers around his calf as he slides higher, presses a quick kiss to Bucky's knee before moving further up, first with his hand, then with his mouth, kissing his way up the sensitive inside of Bucky's thigh.

"Steve," Bucky gasps, voice a little high, trembling and breathless. "If you touch my cock now I'm gonna come the moment you get inside."

Fuck, that's an entirely irresistible image; for a moment Steve pictures it, sliding into Bucky, his muscles squeezing tight around him as he comes right at that moment. He muffles a groan into the middle of Bucky's thigh. Bucky huffs a breathless laugh at the sensation, then whines, muscles tensing under Steve's touch. He looks up to find that Bucky has added a third finger, rhythm slow and more careful now while he gets used to the sensation. Head tilted back, he deliberately relaxes around the greater stretch, muscles trembling a little.

"You're beautiful," Steve murmurs, entirely captivated by the sight of him.

Blinking blurrily, Bucky lifts his head to look at him for a moment, then lets it drop back onto the mattress with a huffed laugh. "Sap."

It would probably be too soon to tell Bucky that he loves him, but that doesn't change that that's how Steve feels. Licking his lips, he leans back in to press them to Bucky's hipbone, deliberately avoiding his cock. As much as he wants to see Bucky come the moment he pushes inside him – the mental image still sends shivers down his back – it didn't sound like that's what Bucky wants. Maybe they can do this later. Hopefully they can do all sorts of things later, everything Steve has ever imagined, everything Bucky wants.

Slowly, he kisses his way up Bucky's stomach, catching every time he shivers, every time his breath stutters. His lips taste salty from the sweat gleaming on Bucky's skin and every now he can't resist it any longer, flicks out his tongue to taste it directly. Finally, fast and at the same time not fast enough, he reaches Bucky's nipple, brushes his lips over the pebbled flesh.

"Nnn," Bucky makes, and it doesn't at all sound like a bad noise, so Steve does it again, flicks the tip of his tongue out. Bucky gasps, then groans, his entire torso lifting off the mattress for a second when Steve closes his lips around his nipple and sucks. Steve makes no attempt to restrain him, just keeps one hand cupped around Bucky's ribs, holding himself up with the other as he focuses on laving all his attention on Bucky's nipple. The whine Bucky makes is music to his ears, the only reward Steve could want.

So focused on his task, Steve is caught off-guard when Bucky, who has remained pliant under his touches until this moment, suddenly moves, fingers curling in Steve's hair and pulling him away at the same time as he uses his legs to flip them over, landing on top of Steve and immediately drawing him into a deep kiss.

"Condom?" he rasps when he pulls back, shifting on top of Steve.

"Uh." Momentarily confused, Steve blinks. The foil packets aren't in his hand anymore, but he can't remember dropping them. He turns his head, but Bucky has already spotted them, leaning over to fish them off where Steve apparently dropped them on the mattress. Quickly, he rips open one of the packets, squeezes the tip and rolls it down Steve's cock, the sudden touch making Steve gasp and roll his hips up. Good thing at least one of them is in control of his faculties.

"Ready?" Bucky asks, expression absolutely sinful as he squeezes Steve's cock, eyes dark and half-lidded, lower lip caught between his teeth.

"God, yes." Is he ever. It's all he can do to restrain his hands, keep them on Bucky's hips only, let him direct the show.

Bucky grins, shifts a little on top of him, positions Steve's cock at his hole and slowly sinks down on him.

A slightly inhuman-sounding noise wrangles itself from Steve's throat, low and rough. His whole body is clenched, the muscles of his thighs trembling with the effort it takes to keep still as Bucky slowly lets his cock inside, hot and tight around him. If it weren't for the condom, Steve is legitimately worried he'd lose control of himself for a second, push up into that intoxicating tightness. As it is, his fingers flex on Bucky's hips as he keeps himself from doing anything, anything at all to control Bucky's movements.

When he's finally, finally seated inside as much as possible, Bucky's weight resting on his pelvis, Steve takes a few deep breaths, then blinks blurry eyes open and peers up at Bucky, only to find himself transfixed by the picture presented to him. Bucky is a masterpiece. If Steve were at all inclined to share, he would paint him and title the image "perfection", because that's what Bucky is. Eyes closed, red lips parted, skin shimmering golden with sweat and with the metal of his arm and the dogtags gleaming silver he looks beautiful and strong. With the way he's seated on Steve, though, powerful thighs spread, knees on either side of Steve's body, tilted back as he uses Steve's thighs for balance and all muscles tense, Bucky is absolutely mindblowing.

Then he opens his eyes, looks down at Steve like he knows exactly how much power he has over him, and smiles. It's not a smug expression, it's a deeply satisfied one, like this is exactly where Bucky wants to be. And then, still smiling, Bucky lifts his hips just a little, almost like a test, rocking on Steve's cock in tiny, minuscule shifts that make both of them gasp.

Slowly, he picks up the pace, his range of motion increasing, sending hot shivers through Steve's body with every twitch. Pretty soon, Bucky is fucking himself on Steve's cock, head tilted back and lips parted, pleasure written into his every feature. All Steve can do is watch, open-mouthed and stunned, captivated. Then, just a few minutes in, Bucky abruptly pushes off his thighs and tilts forwards, catches himself with his hands on Steve's chest, one warm and sweaty, the other hard metal, just slightly cool. The dogtags dangle down, swinging with every lift of his hips, steady as the ocean and for a moment Steve is hypnotized. Until he catches Bucky's eyes, sees the intent in them the determination on his face. "C'mon," Bucky growls. "Fuck me."

There is no way Steve can hold back after that. Fingers digging into Bucky's skin as he tightens his grip on his hips, he puts his feet flat on the mattress for better leverage and the next time Bucky moves down, he pushes up, smacking their bodies together harder than intended. A startled gasp falls out of Bucky's open mouth.

Looking him right in the eye, Steve does it again, adjusting the strength of his thrusts as he gets used to the pace Bucky has established. It feels natural, not hurried but on the faster side, though not enough so to make really hard thrusts a logistical effort. The tags now jolt instead of swing every time their bodies slam together and there is a lot of sound between them, the slick sound of their bodies, the slapping noise of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, but most of all the moans falling out of Bucky's mouth, out of Steve's. He's hardly paying attention to himself, only vaguely aware that he's making noise, but Bucky's voice is music to his ears, a song of pleasure that they're writing together. The best part is when Bucky manages to groan his name, something which appears to take increasing effort as they push each other higher and higher.

"Yeah," Steve hears himself growl, voice so low and rough he wouldn't have recognized it if it weren't for the vibration in his throat. He takes a sharp breath. "C'mon, Bucky."

"Gonna-" Bucky gasps, "gonna-"

"Yes," Steve hisses, hips snapping up. God, he, they've reduced Bucky to incoherence.

Little 'oh'-sounds are starting to fall from between Bucky's lips, red and wet, eyes squeezed shut. One of his hands has lifted off Steve's chest and found its way to Bucky's cock, jerking him in rough, unforgiving twists of his wrist. Briefly Steve thinks about helping but Bucky's got it, clearly; he just focuses on keeping his rhythm steady and hard, at the angle that Bucky found for them. He watches, just watches as Bucky blinks his eyes open, blurry and dark. Then his shoulders seem to sag just a little, almost hunching him over, and then he's coming, come spilling between them hot and wet as his muscles squeeze Steve tightly. His face goes completely slack, peaceful, and he makes not a sound except for a high little whine. He's amazing.

As much as Steve wants to keep going, wants to grip Bucky's hips tightly and fuck until he comes, Bucky might not like that and so, though it goes against every instinct, he slows down instead, paying attention to Bucky's hand around himself, going slack as pleasure ebbs.

Until Bucky suddenly blinks and focuses on him. "C'mon, Steve," he orders breathlessly, and Steve couldn't hold on a moment later. He fucks up again, hard and almost uncoordinated, and Bucky moves with him, shifts up and down the way he has before, eyes intent on Steve's face like he really, really wants to watch him come.

Fuck. There is no response Steve has to that; he's close, so goddamn close and all of a sudden he wants nothing more than to taste Bucky's mouth, so he hooks two fingers in the chain of the dogtags and tugs him down, tilts his chin up when Bucky immediately follows the suggestion and leans in eagerly, pressing his lips to Steve's. The resulting kiss is anything but refined, little more than a wet joining of their mouths, Steve's tongue haphazard as it pushes between Bucky's lips, searching for his taste. He groans, the sound muffled between them when Bucky immediately sucks on his tongue, teeth scraping.

It's not long after that, not long at all; a handful of more thrusts, pushing up into the tight heat of Bucky's body, and he's coming, pleasure crashing through him in a hot wave, Bucky's taste on his tongue, Bucky's lips on the corner of his mouth as he presses a gentle kiss there. There are more kisses, tiny and sweet, that Steve at first barely registers, mind too scattered, but slowly, he returns to awareness. He blinks his eyes open and looks at Bucky, barely far enough away from his to see his expression.

There's a sweet smile on Bucky's face, hair damp and clinging to the sweat at his temples, his neck, lips red and cheeks flushed. Steve's fingers, he suddenly becomes aware, are still curled in the metal chain of the tags.

They're sticky in a way that'll soon become uncomfortable, but Bucky is lying on top of him, looking thoroughly satisfied and settled, like he's not going to leave anytime soon. Steve is pretty sure his expression must be utterly besotted, but he can't help it. "You gonna keep them?" he asks, grip tightening just briefly on the dogtags.

Bucky hitches up one eyebrow. "Hell yeah, dummy."

So that's how it is. Steve smiles, probably pretty dopily, and Bucky manages to maintain his expression for a full two second before he loses control of it, grins back at him giddily. Yeah, that's how it is.


End file.
